


True

by InkInc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, One Shot, Sad, Tearjerker, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3067181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkInc/pseuds/InkInc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me something that was true…"</p>
<p>If it was the very last night, would Sherlock tell her something that was true?</p>
            </blockquote>





	True

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! I felt like writing, but wanted to get something out of my head before working on "Come Attrition…", because if I didn't something like this may have manifested itself there, and, well… it's better if it doesn't. ;)
> 
> Fair warning: This was written to be a punch in the stomach! Please proceed with caution.

**True**   
**...**   
  


"Tell me something that was true."

Sherlock could have laughed.

There was truth, and then there was something that was true regardless of the common belief or acceptance thereof. It was true whether or not one chose to believe it, and it was true for everyone. Always. If God existed, if he truly presided over a kingdom of good and evil upon a throne of gold and light, then his existence transcended thought and doubt. A belief in him would be immaterial.

Sherlock had never known anything with that kind of absolution, he realized with regret... though he supposed it hardly mattered now.

"All of it." He responded, real tears in his eyes for one of a handful of times in his life, brushing his hand over Irene's sweat slicked forehead, pushing her hair off of her face.

The Woman smiled, and the pain threading its way through Sherlock's being, embedding itself in his blood, in his DNA, was so overwhelming that it knocked him truly breathless for a few moments.

"There wasn't very much, though, was there?" She asked quietly.

_Something true._.. Sherlock's mind raced. What was true now? What could he give her now? What possible _comfort_ could he be to her _now_? There were no truths that could change what was happening, no truths that could protect him or her from the pain, just as there had _never_ been any truth protecting The Woman or anyone else for that matter. Because God _didn't_ exist, and if he did he was a cruel and unforgiving force that wrecked its way through the world and through lives... But that probably wasn't even true. Not true in the way she wanted, and not true in the way that made any difference.

No. The only truth now, in this world, in this moment, in Sherlock's whole life... Was Irene Adler, The Woman...

_The_ Woman... was going to die in his arms.

"I don't..." He tried to say something, anything, that could help her... but he didn't have the vocabulary. He didn't have the knowledge or experience to deal with this, or to be able to comfort her.

"It's sort of funny." She said, and as she flinched against the pain, Sherlock was certain he was going to die right here with her. "It is in a way, isn't it?"  
  
"I don't see what's funny." He responded with something he _did_ know was true, and his voice cracked against the strain and weight of everything he'd ever felt for the woman who lay bleeding in his lap.

"That I should die here with you." She laughed a bit. "You don't even like me."

He knew he was supposed to tell her that she wasn't going to die, and that he was going to go find help, but they were in the middle of nowhere with no way of communicating their location, and there was no help to be had. She must have known it, and he couldn't lie to her now. She deserved better than to be lied to, and she deserved better than to die in the cold and in the mud in some forsaken American woods, and she deserved something true.  
  
Sherlock swallowed his tears, and closed his eyes to the hurt that was quickly blotting out the rest of creation.

She'd sent for him 2 weeks ago, in her usual cryptic way, and he had waited. He had waited, because he didn't know if risking seeing her again was worth whatever she wanted to see him in person for, but he couldn't have known that the last vestiges of Moriarty's network had tracked Irene down in America. He couldn't have known that her desperate message to him had given her away to them completely. She had trusted that it was the right choice, that he would come and help her, just as he'd come to help her in Karachi. 

He'd saved her then. Why not  _now_ ?

If he had come when she'd asked, she would be safe and warm - hidden away where no one could ever find her again. He would have made sure of that.

"I'm sorry." He let out, narrowly avoiding a sob.

A gentle hand against his cheek forced him to open his eyes.

"Don't be." She said, her own eyes strained and bright, and she dropped her hand back down to the dirt.

"Please forgive me." He pleaded.

"Sherlock..." She said, shaking her head weakly. "You have to go after them."  
  
"I'm not leaving." He asserted, a tear falling from his eyes to her cheek. He absently rubbed it away, his senses completely failing him.

"Then they win."

"They've already won!" He cried, a painful flair of anger making his head swim. "Moriarty wanted to destroy me - something dragging my name through the mud and pushing me off a building couldn't even do. They did this to you, because of me. This is my _fault_."

"And as long as they're out there, everyone you've ever cared about is in danger." She almost whispered the words. It couldn't be long now.

Sherlock closed his eyes again, tears escaping from underneath the lids with full abandon. It was several moments before he realized he had his face pressed against The Woman's cheek, and several more before he realized he was sobbing.

She was right. Every moment he stayed here with her was a moment that her assailants were able to gain distance in their head start... And they wouldn't stop with her. John, Mary, Molly. They were all in danger. This was a systematic assault on his psyche. Moriarty had promised to burn the heart out of him, something that he didn't even believe was possible... yet here he was.

_Burning_ .

Sherlock swallowed again and pulled away from The Woman whose face was contorted in a mixed expression of agony and sympathy. The cold and dark surrounding them was nearly absolute, and the wind howling through the trees sounded like his heart wailing in to empty night.

He knew what he needed to say.

"Listen to me." He started, gaining control of his voice, wiping his hands furiously over his eyes, and then caressing her wet face. "You want something true?"  
  
Irene's eyes were sliding shut as though they were too heavy for her to hold open any longer. She would be unconscious within the minute, and dead within ten. She was fading from this world too quickly to be possible or fair or right, but it was happening, and he had mere seconds to give her the truth that she'd asked for.

"Are you listening?" He cried out desperately.

She opened her eyes, but the light was already dimming from them. She gave him a small nod.  
  
"There's only one truth I know in this world, the only thing that is true whether or not I've ever spoken it aloud, or whether or not anyone knows it, or if I've never chosen to believe it until this moment..." He paused, taking in a shuddering deep breath, willing himself to stop his tears. "And that truth is you. I believe in _you_." He paused again. "I love you."

It was the first time he'd ever said those words plainly and outright to any other human being, and he was terrified at the thought that it would be the last... But it was true in every sense of the word, and he needed her to know. He loved her; he had _always_ loved her. 

A small smile played across Irene's lips, her eyes glossing over.  
  
"And I..." She started weakly, a tear sliding out from the corner of her eye and down her cheek to her neck. "I Believe in Sherlock Holmes."

Her eyes very nearly floated shut at that, and Sherlock knew that there would be no forcing her to open them this time.

He stared down at her, stricken numb and still for a few moments. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation. Trying to remember how he had got here and why this was happening.

Then the agony struck through his body as though lightning through a tree, and he couldn't breathe. He wanted to lie down next to her and hold her until the very end, and for the first time in his life he just wanted to give up and be done. He didn't ask to be brilliant. He didn't ask to be different. He didn't ask for Moriarty's obsessive attention... and he had never asked for _her_. 

But he had got her.

No, he couldn't let them win. Not now. Not ever. Irene was right, and for the moment she was still alive...

He placed a soft kiss to her lips.

"To me, you'll always be The Woman." He said as he laid The Woman out on the dirt, hoping she could hear him. "You've changed my life, and I'm going to change the world. For you."

He stood after that, his teeth grit and his eyes narrowed. He would find the persons responsible for this, and he would put a definitive and unmerciful end to Moriarty's lingering legacy. No more games. No more puzzles. 

Irene Adler believed in Sherlock Holmes, and if The Woman believed something... 

It must have been true.

**Author's Note:**

> I think my next Adlock writing exercise will include tea and puppies. And lots of hugs. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
